Chapter Thirty-three
Abigail
“Does she faintoften?” a voice trickles through the dark curtain of my bizarre dreams, and I open my eyes, blinking at the brightness of the lights.
“No, she doesn’t,” I croak. “I don’t like blood.”
Something tugs at my hand, not painful so much as strange, and I glance down at where a nurse is stitching me back together—and, groaning, immediately pass out again.
•••
“—vasovagal response. Haven’tseen one that lasts this long in a while.”
“Stop talking about her like she’s some research project,” a familiar voice rasps angrily.
Warmth fills me at it, and I open my eyes again, very carefully not looking at my hand, and smile up at him.
Luke.
Wait. No. Luke is not good.
I frown, shaking my head. Luke is an asshole, who drove me to the—
“You’re awake,” he says, rushing from where he was talking to the doctor and pressing a hand against my forehead.
Irritable, I brush his hand away with mine, or try to, only to manage a hiss in pain as the IV line they put in catches on the side of the bed.
“Gross,” I whine.
“Is it needles in general, then?” the doctor asks, peering at me from above his spectacles. “Or blood? Both?”
Luke’s right. He does sound much too excited about the prospect of what makes me pass out.
“It’s overly enthusiastic doctors,” I snap.
“Your husband said you got the wound from a lobster?” he asks, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.
“Yeah, it was a lobst—” I stop.
Slowly, so slowly, I turn my head to look at Luke, who is staunchly avoiding my gaze.
“Do I want to know why you were handling a lobster?”
“No,” Luke and I say at the same time.
“Dinner,” I finally say, and it’s at least a partial truth. “We were going to have lobster for dinner, and it pinched me.”
“I thought they had bands around their claws,” the doctor muses.
“Well, this one didn’t,” I say rudely. “Can I go home now?”
He gives me a long look. “Blood, then? Or needles? Which is it?”
“Get us the paperwork and leave her alone,” Luke says.
Finally, the doctor relents, leaving the two of us alone in the aqua-and-purple hospital room.
“My husband?” I ask archly.